Charlotte messenger. [volume] (Charlotte, Mecklenburg Co., N.C.) 1882-18??, 1887-02-17
THE OLD HOUSE.

1t was showing! And nobody who
has not had personal experience on the
sub. .ect, knows what regular New
Hampshire snow-storm means.
A cloud of flying needles sharply pune
turirg your face, wind keen as the edge
of any cimetar, a white, binding vail
separating you from the rest of the
world-these are some of the signs and
symptoms.
And Edgar E:eriy felt them in their
most merciless mood, as he stood help.
lessly on the edge of a mountain cliff,
staring around him in vain search of
some FAMILIAR landmark.
Il am lost" said he. "Exactly-and
it serves me right. 1t strikes me that
had better have staid at home and faced
Kathleen's Valentine party, after all"
For, to be frank with the reader, Mr..
Everly had ignominiously retreated be
fore his sisters gay Valentine reception,
to the great grief of the half dozen pretty
young girls who were sojourning In the
house.
"Do stay, Ned" pleaded Kathleen
Everly, almost with tears in her eyes.
''StuH and nonsense" the young man
had returned. "A man is always at a
disadvantage on such occasions at this.
And never was a worshiper of old st.
Valentine. BESIDES, I've often wondered
what those Signal Service fellows did
with themselves up on the top of the
mountain in winter time. They say
they're an awfully jolly set of chaps, if
once you can get at 'em."
"Oh, Edgar, you will certainly be
lost" said his mother, in panic.
'Il Lost on Silver Peak! That is
good onem cried out Everly. "Wasn't
l born and bred under its very shadow
wonder what you will be saying next,
you feminines'
But the unconsciously uttered predic-
ton had come true.
He was, truly and actually, lost on
Silver Peak. No one was altogether
safe in such a bewidering snow-storm
as this. 1t was not such an extraordi-
nary circumstance, if only he had made
allowance for it,
But as he groped bllndly with his
stick, vaguely fearful lest he should be
precipitated into some unfathomable
abyss below, the ferule came in contact
with rude stone wall; the bleating of
young calves reached his ear.
.'Aha!" he cried, exult ngly; ''now /
know where / am. 1t is the Old House,
where Farmer Eastwood keeps his
calvesW
The "Old House" was ruined farm
dwelling. built long ago for the tenn
porary accommodation Of some old set
tier, who had abandoned it as soon as
posslb for mo commodius quarters.
1t stood on the edge of q scrubby
thicket of pines and cedars, and no one
e er came near it who cou.d help them
selves.
But the own Zone Mr.. Eastwood a
prosperous farmer, who we'd on sunny
plateau halfway down the mountain
r. .queutly used it for the accommodation
Of his locks and herds when the home
barnyards were full.
"My bovine friends" said Ever y, re-
gaming his spirits at once, Il am sorry
tc disturb you, but ! am a. great calf
as yourselves ueon this unfortunate ca
sion. and a shelter of any sort Is as I'M
portant to me as it is to yon."
And feeling his way to the low door
way, from which the porch had long
since mouldered away, he entered the Old
House.
Originally it had consisted of two
rooms, in the smaller OF which three or
FOUR speckIed calves were shut, and Ev-
erly looked disconsolately around him,
standing in the larger apartment.
lone would freeze to death hereI"
said he, "Once more will seek the help
Of the boviles.r
And opening the rude pine. door, he
snugged himself down among the calves.
thankful to share in their warmth, as he
wrapped his cape close about his shoul-
dcrs "
''lIail fellows well met, - thought he.
''If they were gipsies or brigands now,
there might be something sentimental in
the whole affair. But calves. Well. I
may as well go to sleep. The danger Of
freezing is over now"
When he reused up from the death
like slumber Of thorough fatigue, the
partition door stood open, the calves
were munching sweet hay, and, wonder
Of wonders, ruddy fire Of brush-wood
and bine-cones was casting its reflection
on the stone walls behind him; and two
plump, cherry-cheeked girls sat on the